Trigun: The word game
by Fairytale Warrior
Summary: "How may I help you today?" another man said, standing in outrage. The people around his table nodded in silent agreement." I wrote the actions, a friend wrote the dialogue. Sort of. Warning: This is TERRIBLE. It's short and ridiculous and just too much fun to keep to myself. Read or don't read. (Not sure how long it will stay up)


It was a silent, desolate city now, ever since word had gone out that Vash the Stampeding Stampede would be coming to town. As fearful as they were, however, the resistance knew that they had no other choice if they wanted to take down and chase off the Earth Federation. They'd tried as it was, gathering various thugs and bounty hunters who felt similarly and banding together as an unlikely team to take them out. Months had passed and so far this particular group had been doing well, defending the city against the Federation and devising battle plans together.

They had been bigger before, but needed to spread to other cities and towns for defense purposes. The saviors they had thought come to rescue them of course were so far from what everyone had hoped, crushing the joy they had initially felt. The Earth Federation had lied to them, now they had to go down.

But to ask the infamous Humanoid Typhoid scared people. The fact that they had been cornered enough to resort to this?

It made the salon timid, a tense silence having fallen over the anxious men as they awaited the legendary gunman's arrival. A large muscle man shifted by the bar, the ice in his glass clicking. Each table was as filled as the bar, people of various professions silently sitting in wait. They'd been waiting for him over an hour now, where was he?

A typhoid raged outside, roaring and whistling against the walls and breaking the silence. Finally, an outlaw slammed his fist against the table. The resounding bang drew the attention of each man in the salon.

"Damnit! Where the fuck is he?!" he snarled, literal caterpillar moustache twitching, "we've been waiting for hours!"

"Be patient, Erik," their leader, Brun, said clamly, his lean arms folded neatly over his chest. "He'll come."

Another man, sitting by the farthest corner, looked up at him, "how do you know?" he asked around his crumpled cigarette. He uncrumpled it.

Leisurely, the leader opened his remaining eye and tilted his large cone shaped hat up, examining the stranger. He had yet to get to know many of his new recruits but that didn't really matter, there was no point in getting to know people who would die before he could meet them. This man, however, was strange in appearance.

"Are you Judas Priest?" he returned, ignoring the other's question. The black haired individual chose not to respond; not that he needed to. His attire spoke the answer all on its own; a casual black suit with the top few buttons of his white wife beater left undone and open. A calculating, dangerous gaze was hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses but Brun didn't need to see his eyes to know he was strong. If he had passed the entrance test he had to be. The large crucifix he was leaning against spoke a few volumes about him as well. It was enormous and made a heavy _thunk _when he set it against the floor upon arrival. Wrapped in a canvas cloth and hidden from his eyes, he couldn't be sure what it was until the fight.

Finally, he answered the man's question, "Because I set out bait."

A few people shifted in nervousness."pppp," he said, "ppppppppppppppppppP."

"How may I help you today?" another man said, standing in outrage. The people around his table nodded in silent agreement.

Brun frowned and with a booming voice, replied, "I'd like a number 6 with a medium drink. "

The salon grew quiet at that, unsure of what to say in response. There was no arguing with that, they _were _in a tight situation and asking for this man's assistance was all they had left. Should they go it alone the destructive powers of the War hammer cannon would destroy them all in one fell swoop.

Unsure silence fell across the men again and minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace.

The preacher looked to the door, a line of sweat trailing down his temple, "Would you like fries with that?"

Finally, when an eternity had passed, the salon's door handle turned…

NTBC

**What happens when I have too much free time with my friends.**

**NTBC = Not to be continued, btw.**

**I'll keep this up for a week or so and then take it down. XD I'm sure I'm the only one that finds joy in this. **


End file.
